


Taking it for a Test Drive

by Colette_Capricious



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, So kind of not underage, de-aged!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-10 23:11:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3306857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colette_Capricious/pseuds/Colette_Capricious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's eyes are on the road, but his mind is definitely on Dean's body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sam is in hell. 

Driving in the car next to Dean in that body. Damn.

He knows he should be focused. They have serious shit to deal with here, life and death stakes as usual. But still, he can’t stop staring. He looks whenever he thinks he can do it without getting caught, darting his eyes back at the road when Dean looks at him like he knows what’s Sam thinking. 

Oh god, what if he knows what Sam’s thinking? He probably knows what Sam’s thinking.

Dean’s restless. Sam can hear him shifting, that damn hoodie sliding against the seatback. Maybe it’s his uncontrollable dick. Damn it, why did Sam’s mind have to go there. Then again, Dean is the one who brought it up. And talking about his virgin liver. Not to mention his virgin, well, other parts.

Dean had looked so...so tiny when he shoved past Sam into the hotel room; so vulnerable even as he was shoving a pistol down the back of his pants. The top of his head barely reaches Sam’s shoulder. Sam can’t help but think that he could probably hold Dean up with one arm. Especially, say, if he were to be trapped between Sam’s body and the wall of some motel.

Now it’s Sam’s turn to shift restlessly in his seat. He tugs at his jacket, trying surreptitiously to make sure his growing, ah, _interest_ in Dean’s body is covered. Sam’s brain may be having trouble processing grown Dean’s brain in teen Dean’s body, but his dick was having no such issues. It had no moral qualms, wasn’t trying to figure out if wanting to fuck your older brother in his younger body was old-fashioned perversion, or a whole new kink. 

As for his heart, well, all it saw was the boy he’d fallen in love with all those years ago.

So excuse him for freaking out a little.

Sam exhales loudly and drops his chin to his chest.

From across the seat, Dean giggles. 

_What?_ Sam whips around to see Dean pressed into the corner where the seat meets the door. One arm is up against the seat back, one leg up on the seat. He’s rubbing his hand up and down the inside of his thigh and Sam can tell that Dean’s hard again. He can also tell his hand would cover Dean’s entire erection easily. _Christ_

Dean slides his foot along the seat, digging his toes under Sam’s thigh like Sam used to do to him when they were kids. “Whatcha thinking about, Sammy?” His eyes flick down towards Sam’s crotch.

Sam’s looks down to where his own hard dick is pretty obviously outlined through the denim. _Fuck._ He opens his mouth to say something, anything, and then shuts it. What can he say? “Just leave it, Dean.”

Dean rubs his sneakered foot against Sam again. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Sam clenches his jaw, and looks out the window.

“Sammy,” Dean sing-songs. 

Sam doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge Dean in any way.

“Sam!” Dean barks, as best he can with his prepubescent voice. “Pull the car over right the fuck now.”

Sam’s not really wired to ignore that tone, so he does as he’s told. He coasts over the shoulder, puts the car into park, and turns to his brother. “Dean...”

Dean is up on his knees on the bench seat, hands wrapped in Sam’s shirt. “Don’t - don’t. I know. I know what you want.”

Sam leans as far away as he can, back pressed into the seat. He spreads his arms wide, not trusting himself to overcome the urge to grab Dean. “I wasn’t, I mean. You’re fourteen!” he says.

“Only on the outside,” Dean says, leaning further into Sam’s space. His lips ghost over Sam’s jawline. 

Sam closes his eyes and curses silently. There is something else he’s supposed to say. But Dean’s dragging his tongue over the stubble on cheekbones and how is he supposed to think with his brother’s mouth (fucking finally) on him? 

“Brothers,” he says with a gasp, pushing at Dean’s chest. “We, we’re brothers.” That was it. Dean can’t argue with that.

“Uh huh,” Dean agrees. “That we are. And you know what I would be thinking if your fourteen year old ass dropped into my lap?” Without waiting for an answer, he swings a leg over Sam’s and straddles him. When he actually does drop down on to Sam’s lap, they both groan. Dean drags his ass over Sam’s rock-hard dick. 

Sam can’t help it. He clamps his hands on Dean’s hips and just pulls Dean tight against his body. “What - what would you think, Dean?” Sam’s hands flex around Dean’s hipbonea, fingers sliding up under that fucking hoodie. Sam whimpers at the feel of soft skin. He slides his hands up under the shirts, to Dean’s waist. It’s so small. If he tried, he just might be able to wrap his hands around it.

“I would think I want to fuck you. just like i did when you were really fourteen.”

The throb in Sam’s groin punches the air out of his lungs. “Don’t say that. You didn’t - you don’t.”

Dean pushes up on his knees, and Sam groans at the lost of contact. He moans when Dean grabs a handful of his hair and pulls his head back hard. “I did,” he says, intent. “And I do.”

“But you never, never even said. It was just me.”

“I wasn’t,” Dean shakes his head. “It never was. But you were a kid. Didn’t know what you wanted.”

Sam licks his lips, rolls his hips up against Dean’s ass. “God,” he exhales. “I wanted you so bad then.”

Dean winds both hands in Sam’s hair, rests his elbows on Sam’s shoulders. “Just then, Sammy? Not once since then? Not now?”

Sam snaps. He wraps his arms around Dean, almost all the way around, and drags him in, one hand on the back of his head as he ravishes Dean’s hot, plush mouth. He slides the other down the back of Dean’s jeans, palm spanning most of the soft flesh there, long fingers trailing along the crack of Dean’s ass.

Dean is whimpering into Sam’s mouth, mouth lax with lust as Sam presses Dean harder into his cock. Even through two layers of denim, he can feels the heat between Dean’s legs. He yanks Dean off his mouth. Dean’s pupils are blown black, his lips are red and swollen, and he pulls against Sam’s hold. “Jesus, Dean. I have to fuck you.” He presses his finger in between Dean’s ass cheeks, feeling for his entrance. When he reaches it, barely putting any pressure against, Dean shudders. 

“Fuck, Sam. God. Oh god. Sammy.” Dean’s panting, rolling his hips into Sam, crushing their hard cocks together. “Please,” he begs.

“Later, later,” Sam promises. He bites and kisses along Dean’s neck, drawing beautiful whines out of Dean’s mouth. “Fuck. You’re so small now. Think you can take me? Take it all?” He bites down hard on the juncture of Dean’s neck and shoulder, just as he pushes a dry fingertip into Dean’s hot, tight center.

Dean screams his name and his fingers clench around Sam’s biceps, as he comes hot and wet in his jeans. 

Sam yanks his hand out of Dean’s pants and clamps them on his hips. Dean’s still orgasming, pulsing over Sam, as Sam holds him down as he thrusts up hard against his brother’s body. “Yeah, yeah. Fuck, Dean. Gonna, gonna fuck you. Fuck!” he cries, hips twisting and lifting off the seat, almost slamming Dean’s head against the ceiling and he shoots for what feels like an eternity.

His chest heaves, and Dean slides sideways off of him with a groan. “Jesus Christ, Sammy. Holy shit. We should have fucking done that years ago.”

Sam can only nod in agreement.

Dean plucks at his damp, stick pants and makes a face. “Great. Now I have to kill a witch with a load in my pants.”

“Fuck,” Sam groans. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Dean drags himself upright, slaps Sam weakly. “I can drive if you can’t, old man.”

Sam flips him the bird, and sits up, grimacing at the rapidly cooling mess in his pants. “Screw you, shorty,” he says, putting the car into gear. “We have witch to kill, a girl to save, and a reverse spell to find.”

Dean snorts. “Is that all?”

Sam eases the car back onto the road.

They drive in silence for a while. Sam’s starting to feel like it’s wandering into awkward silence territory when Dean turns back from that window.

“About that counterspell. When we find it, let’s just hold off on it for a while, okay?”

Sam glances away from the road. Dean’s looking out the window but Sam meets his eyes in the reflection in the night-dark glass. “Is it because of the Mark?”

Dean shrugs. “A little.” He turns to Sam. “But I kinda want to see what it feels like to have you fuck me with that monster cock I know you have.”

Sam shudders as his cock gives a painful lurch. 

Dean grins like he knows the effect he’s having. He rubs a hand against his dick and Sam is fascinated and horrified to see he’s hard again.

Dean shrugs. “It’s up, it’s down...”

Sam shakes his head, as they drive into the night to do what they do best - saving people, hunting things. The family business.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my world, Dean didn't use the hex bag in the house and certainly didn't burn it. He takes it with them. Tina still decides to stay young.

No one at the station bats an eye as Sam hands Tina a handful of cash and puts her on a bus. It’s a theme in their lives lately, Sam thinks, letting young girls go off on their own. First Kate, then Claire, and now Tina. It’s a hard world out there and it’s even harder alone. He hopes, but doesn’t pray, for the best for all of them. He’s given up prayer. Somehow knowing that someone is actually listening makes it worse, not better. 

Dean elbows him in the side to get his attention, then jerks his head towards the Impala. He’s right. Time and past time to be gone. Even by Winchester standards it’s been a weird day.

After all, it’s not everyday you have sex with your brother.

Sam flushes at the memory, swallows. Dean’s still in his young body, still small. He holds the hex bag he’d yanked off Hansel’s neck, but he hasn’t squeezed it, not yet. Dean seems awfully cheery as he heads to the car. Hands jammed into the pockets of his coat, he’s almost whistling as he watches the people. He cranes his neck around to follow one particularly attractive woman across the lot, and Sam grabs his hood to stop him from tripping over a traffic cone. 

“Smooth,” Sam smirks.

Dean yanks his hood out of Sam’s hand and looks back for the woman. Not finding her, he turns back to Sam with a shrug. “Sorry, dude. You know how it is, the hormones are outta control in this thing.” He eyes Sam up and down, eyebrows raised appreciatively. “If I remember correctly, you were going to help me out with that.”

Sam feels the heat of that look in his cheeks and his groin. He really hopes no one overheard their conversation. He guides Dean to the car with a hand on the back of his neck. His fingers graze over Dean’s collarbones and it’s Dean’s turn to flush. Sam can feel the heat rising.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean says under his breath. “I know you’re a giant and all, but lemme tell you, being this much smaller, makes me wanna climb you like a tree.”

Sam’s hand tightens convulsively around Dean’s neck, and he’s really glad they’re at the car. “Get in,” he says, voice rough. He yanks Dean’s door open and pushes him in harder then he means to. 

“Sam?” Dean asks. He actually sounds a little nervous.

Sam slams the door and walks quickly around to the other side. He slides into the seat with a long exhale. “Sorry,” he apologizes, reaching over to rub Dean’s leg. “You just can’t say shit like that in public, man.” He’s just dragging his hand up and down Dean’s thigh now as he pulls out of the parking lot. The engine growls and rumbles.

“Mmm,” Dean agrees. “Probably would have sounded really bad if someone heard me say that I’ve been wondering how much of your dick I can fit in my mouth.”

Sam laughs shakily, then looks over at Dean, the back at the road. Licking his dry lips, he raises his hand to Dean’s mouth and traces over it with the back of his fingers. “I’d like to find that out myself.”

Dean licks between Sam’s fingers, flicking at the webbing, then biting at the fleshy parts. 

“Fuck,” Sam curses. He’s already half- hard.

Dean pulls his mouth of Sam’s hand. “Stop there,” he orders, pointing out the window at a combo gas station/liquor store/convenience store. 

Sam does, pulling up to the door. “Lube, whisky, and beer?” he asks, shutting off the engine.

“Such a sweet-talker, Sammy.” 

“I know the way to your...heart,” he smirks.

Dean laughs. “Oh, and get some hot dogs or something. I’m starved. I’m a growing boy here.”

“Whatever you want, Princess.” Sam slides out of the car. He’s halfway in the store when he hears Dean yell out the window.

“And pie! Get me some pie, bitch.”

A woman coming out shoots him an appalled look. “Little brother,” he explains. Oddly enough, he doesn’t want this stranger thinking he’d let his imaginary kid talk to him like that.

When he comes out of the store, he watches Dean through the windshield. He’s got the radio on, and is leaning back against the seat, eyes closed, hand pressing lightly between his legs. He looks so happy and relaxed. Sam stands there, just watching, until Dean notices him. 

_What?_ he mouths silently.

Sam just shakes his head and gets in the car.

Dean eats three hotdogs before they hit the motel.

 

****

The water pressure in the shower is strong, and the hot water feels great as it pounds down onto his shoulders. But that’s nothing compared to how Dean’s hot, soap-slick skin feels under his hands. And even that pales in comparison to the sweet, sweet sound of Dean begging Sam to let him come.

Dean’s hands are plastered to the glass door of the shower stall, and Sam is draped over him. He’s so much bigger than Dean now and the water is barely hitting Dean. Sam bends down to suck the water off Dean’s shoulder and Dean whines. His cock slides through Sam’s soapy fist. Sam holds Dean just a little too loosely for him to get off. Sam’s cock is an iron bar pressed into the middle of Dean’s back.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” Dean chants. “Please let me come. Come on, Sammy. Please. God,”

He begs so pretty, so desperately, Sam almost feels bad for him. Dean’s been on the edge since they hit the motel. As soon as they’d dropped the bags on the table, Dean launched himself at Sam. Grabbing around his neck with one hand, he’d made good on his promise to climb Sam like a tree. Sam found out that he didn’t need any hands at all to hold Dean up as he pressed him up against the wall and kissed the living daylights out of him. Dean’s mouth was hot and demanding, and he kissed like the grown man he actually was inside.

Spinning them around, Sam just tossed Dean onto the bed. “Strip,” he ordered, pulling off his coat and overshirt. Dean yanked his clothes off in record time, toeing off his sneakers and flinging them across the room.

The both winced as they pulled their filthy boxers off. “Shower?” Dean suggested, leaning back on his elbows, all smooth, lean muscles and hairless skin.

“God, yes,” Sam sighed. The he scooped Dean up, ignoring his squawk of outrage, and carried him into the shower. 

And now here they are. Dean hot, wet, and desperate under his hands. Literally under his hand. Sam stops stroking and Dean almost sobs. He presses his hand against Dean’s erection, trapping it against his stomach. It fits easily under his palm. “God, Dean.”

Dean whines and flattens his body against the door. He ruts against Sam’s hand, chasing the friction. 

Sam hooks a hand over the top of the door to hold it closed, then he pushes Dean harder against his hand. He swipes his thumb over the top of Dean’s dick, while cupping his balls with his fingers. Dean shudders, so Sam does it again. Sam reaches behind him and shuts the water off. He holds Dean around the waist as they stumble out of the shower. The room is filled with steam, the air sultry.

Sam leans back against the sink, dragging Dean with him. They can see their reflections in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. Dean is panting, his skinny back pressing against Sam’s broad chest with every breath. Sam pulls his arms up, hooking them around his neck. “Hold on,” he rasps out. 

The look obscene in the mirror. Dean’s body so small in front of Sam’s, so pale and slim. His cock is hard and leaking, rocking with every panting breath. Sam wants to do so many things to him. But first he wants to see Dean come. He wraps one arm around Dean’s chest, fingers scratching across his nipples and down the ladder of his ribs. With the other hand he grabs Dean’s cock, hard, the way Dean’s been begging for it. He’s not messing around now, he needs to see Dean come, then get him spread out on the bed. 

“Oh, fuck, Sammy,” Dean’s back arches and he comes up on his toes as Sam jerks his cock hard and fast. 

“Open your eyes. Look at us,” Sam begs. Dean does, and their eyes meet in the reflection. Dean’s mouth is open, panting, and Sam can feel him trembling against him. His own eyes are almost totally black, his hand spreads wide over Dean’s torso, almost spanning his chest. His cock throbs hard against Dean’s back. “Come on, come on, Dean. Come so I can fuck you,”

Two more rough jerks and Dean is coming hard. His hips twist as he writhes against Sam. Ropes of white shoot up his body, landing on his chest, his collar bones. It drips down Sam’s hands. 

Sam spins him and picks him up, come smearing between their bodies. He yanks open the door and storms out into the room. Dean quickly grabs a towel off the bar. His heart pounds against Sam’s chest.

Sam tosses him on the bed for the second time that night. Dean lands in a boneless sprawl, and Sam crawls over him, trapping Dean in a cage of his arms and legs.

“Goddamn,” Dean laughs weakly. “Don’t get too use to manhandling me like that.”

“You love it,” Sam growls. Water drips from his hair onto Dean’s body. It’s cold in the room.

“Yeah, I do, but it’s won’t be so easy when I’m not fun-sized anymore.” He grabs the towel and drapes it over Sam’s head. “C’mere.” He roughly scrubs through Sam’s hair, wipes as much water as he can reach from Sam’s back. “You’re going to catch pneumonia.” He wipes down Sam’s arms, then throws the towel into the corner.

Sam trembles with the awareness of Dean taking care of him. Like he always does. Like he did when he was this young boy for real. “God, I love you,” slips from his lips.

Dean’s eyes widen with surprise. He slides his fingers into Sam’s hair and pulls him down for a hard kiss, saying with his body what he can’t say with his words. 

Sam’s kisses are fierce, and desperate. A tsunami of emotion is hitting him. It’s the reality of what they are doing, the mind-melting unbelievableness that Dean wants him, has always wanted him, in the same taboo ways Sam has always wanted Dean.

And it’s the flood of desperate love for Dean as he finally hits him that Dean was a child raising a child. In his memories, Dean is always larger than life, tall and strong and beautiful, keep Sam safe from the things other people couldn’t even acknowledge. And he was, he was all that. But he was also fourteen, and probably scared. Just a kid sacrificing his own childhood so that Sam could have one for as long as possible. 

Because Dean knows Sam almost better than he knows himself sometimes, he pulls Sam down flat on top of him, gentling the kisses, whispering, “It’s okay, it’s okay, Sammy,” over and over as he runs his hands up and down Sam’s body. He pushes and pulls until he rolls them over on the bed.

Dean kisses his way down Sam’s body. Sam’s hands surf over the planes of his body as he does, ending up curved over the back of his head. Dean’s mouth is hot on Sam’s skin, his teeth sharp when he bites into his hipbones. His tongue tickles through the hair on Sam’s groin as Dean spreads his thighs apart and nestles between then. Sam groans as Dean gently pulls his hard cock away from his body. Breath hisses in between his teeth when Dean’s tongue touches the tip.

“How much do you think I can take?” Dean asks.

Sam pushes up on his elbows. This he has to see. Dean looks up at him through those girly lashes as he rubs Sam’s cock against his lips. Sam is the one panting now. His rubs his calves against Dean’s body. Dean licks up one side, then down the other, picking up the sticky fluid falling from the tip. He does it again, and again. His hand slides slowly up and down the base.

When Dean swirls his tongue around the head, then slides his mouth over it, it's Sam turn to beg. “Dean, please.” 

Dean moans and pushes himself up on his knees. He’s curved over Sam’s body, one hand clamped around Sam’s thigh, fingers digging in, supporting his weight. He opens his mouth wide and takes Sam in as far as he can.

It’s not very far, maybe a few inches. Oh, but it’s enough. The heat and the wet make Sam’s eyes roll up into his head. But it’s the noises Dean is making that push Sam closer to the edge. He’s been hard since the bus station, and he’s not going to last long. Dean’s spit is rolling down the sides of Sam’s dick. He shifts up to try and go deeper, opens his mouth wider. Dean’s tongue sweeps up the side and he slides down further. 

Sam feels his cock bump against the roof of Dean’s mouth, the slight scrape of teeth, and five points of pain where his fingers dig into Sam’s thigh. Sam’s hips pulse up, forcing his cock into Dean’s mouth. Dean whimpers around it, hand tightening around the base. Sam trembles as he fights the urge to just thrust up into that hot, wet space. God, he needs to be buried in Dean’s body.

He has all these _plans_ , all these scenarios in his head, but then Dean pulls off, mouth all swollen and red, spit dripping down his chin. “Damn,” he says, rubbing the hinges of his jaw. “You’re fucking huge, man. Not sure I can take anymore.”

 _Yes, you can_ , Sam thinks, and he surges forward. Dean yelps as Sam slides them both off the foot of the bed, lifting Dean and depositing him on his knees between Sam’s leg. Sam cock sways huge and hard by his face. “Yeah, you can,” he growls, hands gripping Dean’s head on either side and pulling him forward. He’d be mortified by his own behavior if he had any brain cells left, and if he hadn’t heard Dean’s heartfelt, “Oh, fuck, yeah,” as Sam dragged his mouth back down over his cock.

With the new angle, Dean can get deeper. Sam holds his head and just fucks his face. It’s obscene and hotter than the sun. Dean’s got one hand between his leg as he jacks his own cock to the rhythm of Sam’s thrusts. “God, look at me, Dean. Look at me.” Sam tugs as best he can on Dean’s too-short hair. Dean looks up, green eyes blazing, mouth red and stretched wide over Sam’s cock. His throat works as he tries to swallow the mix of spit and pre-come flooding his mouth, but it pours down his chin. His chest heaves as he tries to breathe and suck Sam off at same time.

It’s too much. Sam’s balls pull tight against his body and pleasure stabs him in the groin and base of the spine. All his muscles lock as it flares up his spine, whites out his vision, and hums through his ears until it’s all he can hear. His back bows and his hands lock on Dean’s head, as he shoots over and over into his brother’s mouth.

When his muscles unlock, he collapses back down onto the bed. He’s trying to form the words _sorry, Dean_ when he feels Dean crawling over him chanting his name. 

“Sam, Sam. Oh, fuck. Jesus. Sam,.” He’s holding his rock-hard dick as he knee-walks up the bed. His face is a mess of come and tears, and Sam shudders with an aftershock so big he’s pretty sure it qualifies as another orgasm. Dean knees straddle Sam’s shoulders and he pulls Sam’s head up and feeds his cock into his mouth.

Sam’s too lax and out of it to do much but let his jaw hang down. Doesn’t seem to bother Dean, and his hand flies over his cock as he rubs it against Sam’s lips and tongue. Dean falls forward, hand slamming into the wall, as he comes hard on Sam’s face.

He stays there, breathing hard, cock soft and sticky now against Sam’s mouth until Sam slaps weakly at his thigh. “Move, asshole. I can’t breath with your dick in my face.”

“Yeah? You should try it with a giant cock down your throat. Thought you were going to suffocate me.” Dean laughs weakly and slides down his brother’s body until he’s laying half on, half off him. They are disgusting, covered in sweat and come. It feels great.

Dean’s still laughing like he can’t believe it. “Shit,” he says, breathing heavily. “That was, that was amazing.”

“Yeah,” Sam agrees, eyes closed. He can feel sleep pulling him under. He’s cold and gross but even that can’t stop him.

“No, Sam,” Dean says, suddenly serious. He pushes himself up so he can look Sam in the eye. “It was amazing. I feel good, just good. Great.”

Sam gets what he can’t say and opens his eyes. He reaches over and rubs gently on the place on Dean's armwhere the Mark was, and will be again.

Dean covers his hand with his own. “I...I just. It’s always there. Pulling, keeping me angry, making me...making me want to...” He can’t finish.

“I’m sorry, Dean. We’ll fix it.”

Dean shakes his head. “That’s not. It’s just, this. Thank you for this. It was just me and you, Sammy. No mark. Nothing but me and you.”

Sam pulls him down for a kiss. It’s sweet and loving, for all Sam can taste them both as their flavors mix on his tongue. His hands on Dean’s body are soft, soothing now. Dean pulls away first, resting his head on Sam’s shoulder.

Sam swallows hard. “You could ... not, you know. Just stay, like this. No Mark.” He can feel Dean shaking his head. “You’d grow up again. I remember. You were big already at sixteen.”

Now he feels Dean’s smile on his skin, then a small kiss and a sharp bite. “I really wasn’t, Sammy. You just remember it like that because you were such at shrimp when you were twelve.”

“I got over it.” 

Dean runs an appreciative hand over Sam’s shoulders and arms. “I’ll say. Excellent job, by the way.” He rolls off Sam, and lays on his back, an arm thrown over his eyes.

“You don’t have to do it,” Sam repeats.

Dean moves his hand and turns his head to look at Sam. “Do you want me to stay like this?” He gestures down his body. “Is _this_ easier for you if I’m like this?”

Sam looks at Dean’s young, naked body, covered in come, love bites and bruises from Sam’s fingers. He feels his head start shaking almost without his control. “No. No, man. I miss you. The real you. But I don’t want to be selfish. I want you to do what you want to do. What you need to do.”

Dean nods. He kisses Sam again, the rolls off the bed. 

Sam sits up and watches him as he walk across the room unselfconsciously. Dean picks his coat up off the floor and digs through the pockets. He pulls out the hex bag and holds it up. His smile at Sam doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Sam swings his legs off the side of the bed, and leans forward.

There’s a bright light, and suddenly his Dean, grown Dean, his beautiful, strong, big brother, is standing there. Still naked, but with the Mark bright and ugly on his forearm. He winces, as if it pains him, and he grabs the Mark, covering with his hand. “Well,” he says. “Fuck,”

“Dean,” Sam whispers, and he pushes up and walks over to Dean. He grabs Dean’s shoulder with one hand. Dean’s eyes are almost at a level with his now, and he’s acutely aware that they are both naked. Sam still has Dean’s come on his body. “Dean,” he says again, searching his brother’s eyes for a sign of something, anything. Some reassurance that they haven’t fuck up their relationship again.

But Dean looks as unsure as Sam feels. He tries a smile again. “Still want me now that I’m old?” he tries to joke.

And that’s easy, a no-brainer. “God, yes,” Sam says, pulling Dean tight against him. “Always.” He feels Dean’s arms clamp across his back, imagines he can feel the heat of the mark. He pulls back just enough to bend in for a kiss. “Okay?” he asks, just before their lips touch. Dean’s answer is lost in the kiss. It feels so amazing, right in a way kissing young Dean never could. Here, now, he has his partner, someone he can lean on, someone he can help. He maps out the muscles of Dean’s shoulders with his fingertips, frags his hands down the length of his spine, and over the swell of his ass. Dean hmms into his mouth.

“Shower again?” Dean asks. “You’re kind of sticky.”

Sam laughs. “That’s all you, dude.” He laughs again at the face Dean makes. “Come on.”

Dean walks in front of him, and Sam admires the thick muscles of his bowed legs, and the firm curve of his ass. 

“Liking the view, Sammy?” Dean asks.

“Umm hm,” Sam answers.

“You know, you never did fuck me like you promised,” Dean remarks casually, stopping at the bathroom door.

“Yeah?” Sam says, flowing up against him, and pressing him to the door frame. “Is that so?”

“I believe it is,” Dean answers, grabbing Sam’s ass with both hands.

“Well, we need to remedy that,” Sam answers. He gently shoves Dean into the bathroom, and kicks the door shut behind him.


End file.
